


Like a River Flows

by zjofierose



Series: Form Ficlets! [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 08, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 17:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: sometimes the things we fear the most are just a dream. and some things are meant to be.





	Like a River Flows

**Author's Note:**

> this is my version of talking about my post-season 8 feelings. make of it what you will.
> 
> Voltron Season 8 spoilers like whoa. unbeta'd and written in like a two-hour funk.

“Hey, hey,” comes a voice softly, and Keith wakes with a start, sitting upright in bed and breathing hard. “It’s okay, baby, take a breath. You were dreaming.”

It’s Shiro’s voice, Keith knows now, Shiro’s voice still heavy with sleep, Shiro’s warm arm wrapped around him, palm pressing him awake. Their room is dark, but familiar in scent and sound, the faint whir of Atlas’ systems and the dry touch of the ship’s recycled air.

Keith settles his fingers on Shiro’s shoulder, gripping at it to ground himself back into reality, breathing carefully in through his nose and out through his mouth while Shiro’s hand rubs soothingly at the small of his back.

“You want to talk about it?” Shiro asks after a moment, and Keith lays himself carefully back down, lets himself be pulled into the safe circle of Shiro’s embrace.

“I dreamed Allura died,” he says softly, voice thick but eyes dry. “When we were in the space between realities, when she was trying to convince Honerva to not destroy the universe…” he trails off for a moment, and Shiro makes a reassuring sound against his shoulder. “I dreamed she told us each goodbye, and then she left with the other paladins and Honerva, and was… gone.”

“That sounds really sad,” Shiro says, his hand still moving in small circles at Keith’s back.

“Yeah,” Keith says, “it was. I know in real life she came back, but in my dream… god, _Lance_. He was…”

Shiro’s chin tucks up over the point of Keith’s shoulder, the weight of his head settling against Keith’s own.

“Your heart’s still pounding,” Shiro says gently, “do you need to go check on them?”

“No,” Keith wriggles his way back against Shiro’s broad chest and captures Shiro’s hand in his own. “Just give me a minute.”

“They’re just down the hall,” Shiro reminds him, “you know they wouldn’t mind.”

“I know,” Keith answers, and he does. In the first months after the war, they'd all suffered from nightmares, insomnia, anxiety, a whole host of new variations on old experiences as their brains and bodies began to release the tension they’d each been holding for years. It had been not at all uncommon for one of them to wake any or all of the others just to make sure everyone was still present, still alive. The odds of them all getting out had been so low, so unbelievable, it seemed their minds could barely accept it.

It’s been a while since Keith’s needed to do it for anyone other than Shiro, whom he wakes at least once a night to make sure he’s still breathing, and he doesn’t want to get out of bed, doesn’t want to disturb them. “It’s okay. If you say she’s fine, I believe you.”

“She’s fine,” Shiro says immediately, “Lance is fine. Pidge and Hunk are also fine. We’re all here, we’re all home.”

"Yeah,” Keith agrees, and focuses on letting his body relax, one small muscle at a time.

“Is it weird,” he says after a while, and feels Shiro shift back into wakefulness behind him, “how we live? How close we all are?”

Shiro _hmms_ thoughtfully. “I don’t think so? Most of us were enlisted before everything started. You and Lance and Hunk and I, if we’d all stayed with the Garrison or stayed in the force, we’d have ended up serving closely for years with whatever crews we were assigned.” He pauses, thinking for a minute. “Matt was also already in, and Pidge wanted to be, she just kind of jumped the gun a little.”

“But the war is over,” Keith says, shifting onto his back and letting Shiro’s head settle onto his shoulder. He turns his face so he can rub his nose absently into Shiro’s hairline, the texture of Shiro’s skin against his own calming him. “Should we have split up? Gone our separate ways?”

“Why?” Shiro asks, and Keith mentally concedes the point. “I don’t think there’s a _‘should’_ there, Keith. There’s not really a precedent for us. I don’t think it’s unreasonable that, after everything we went through, the years we spent together, the literal mental bonds we all share, that we’d want to stay close.”

“Yeah,” Keith breathes out, “I guess you’re right.”

“Besides,” Shiro continues, “it’s not like we’re not all still able to follow our own dreams. Hunk’s got his intergalactic cooking show. Pidge and Matt and Sam are busy in their labs.”

“...and Slav,” Keith adds, and laughs under his breath as Shiro sighs.

“And Slav. Lance is doing great work supervising the Atlas interns and helping Allura. Allura’s able to go wherever she’s needed, and still have a home to come back to. And there’s plenty of space for Coran and Romelle and Kolivan and your mom and Colleen and everyone else.”

“Yeah,” Keith says again, “I guess you’re right. I just wonder sometimes, is it...I don’t know. Is it healthy, how much we’re all in each other’s pockets.”

“Would you rather do something else?” Shiro asks calmly, and Keith doesn’t even have to think before he answers.

“No,” he says, and grasps at Shiro’s fingers. “No, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Shiro nods knowingly against his chest. “You just have to trust that that’s how everyone else feels, too. Just like you want to be around them, they want to be around you. And if they didn’t, they wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m still not used to it,” Keith whispers, and he can’t help if it sounds faintly ashamed. So many years of being surrounded by people who want him, and he still forgets that it’s real.

“I know, baby,” Shiro whispers back, and turns his head to press a kiss to Keith’s t-shirted chest. “It’s okay. You don’t have to understand it, just trust it.”

“I do,” Keith says firmly, and that also is true. He trusts them all, more than anything.

Silence falls between them, and Keith begins counting his breaths, in and out, in and out, in an effort to begin the slide back into sleep.

“What else did you dream?” Shiro asks, his voice coming rough with sleep.

“Hmm?”

Shiro clears his throat and repeats himself. “What else did you dream?”

"Oh,” Keith frowns. “Um. It was silly.”

“Oh?” Shiro’s tone is neutral, and Keith knows it's obvious that he’s stalling, so he lifts his chin and throws the words into the darkness.

“I dreamt you got married.”

It must surprise Shiro, because he doesn’t respond for a moment, letting his head rise and fall with Keith's measured breaths. “To who?” he asks finally, his tone amused.

“Um, some guy on the bridge crew from when we were fighting. I don’t think I ever knew his name.”

Shiro makes a non-committal sound into Keith’s shoulder, and Keith scowls into the darkness in silence.

“Did that upset you?” Shiro asks eventually, his voice gentle.

“Is that... something that you want? Getting married?” Keith asks instead of answering him, and Shiro lets him go so they can both sit up. Keith’s fully awake again, his foot twitching on the bed, and Shiro’s clearly doing his thing where he can read Keith’s moods without even being able to see him.

“I don’t know,” Shiro answers, and Keith is grateful that he can trust whatever Shiro tells him. Shiro is unflinchingly honest, and wouldn’t lie to spare Keith’s feelings. What they have is too important for anything other than the truth, too durable for anything like misunderstanding. “Adam and I had talked about it, but mostly in the abstract. I never really thought I’d be around long enough to make it worthwhile.”

“And now?” Keith asks, unaccountably nervous. “Would you marry someone?”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” Shiro says, “I guess it would depend on who and why.”

“Would you marry me?”

Shiro snorts out a soft laugh. “Is that a hypothetical or a proposal?”

Keith thinks for a second. “A hypothetical. For now, anyway.”

Shiro winds his hand around the back of Keith’s neck and pulls him into a soft kiss, reassuring and safe. He leaves his hand in place when he pulls back, and Keith leans into it gratefully. The dream had upset him more than seems reasonable, the image of Shiro happily falling into the arms of someone else, looking deep into their eyes and holding them close. He’s never been the jealous type, he’s never had reason to be. What they have is the grounding center of his world, and he trusts it implicitly, which is part of what had made the vision feel so strange.

“If you wanted me to, yes, I would,” Shiro says, and Keith exhales hard. “But it’s never really seemed like something you needed.”

“No,” Keith agrees, “I like what we have. But...I don’t know. Maybe someday?”

Shiro kisses him again, lingering and sweet. “Okay,” he says, and pushes gently at Keith’s shoulder until Keith’s flat on the bed once again, then lies down beside him. “I promise not to marry anyone else in the meantime.”

“ _Good_ ,” Keith says, maybe a little more firmly than he intends, judging by Shiro’s muffled laugh. He curls himself into Shiro’s curve, his face pressed to Shiro’s neck, an arm around his waist, legs tangled. He closes his eyes, lets his own breathing fall in sync with Shiro’s.

“Good.”


End file.
